Taming The Bear
by AzureEyedI
Summary: Emmett's wish for a tryst with his brother's wife takes an unexpected turn, one he never expected. O/S for winner of author auction from The Fandom Gives Back. MATURE for lemons of the BDSM variety. I mean it. Don't try this at home.


**Birds and Bees Writing Challenge**

**Hosted by The Writer's Coffee Shop.**

**Name of story: Taming The Bear  
**

**Penname: AzureEyedI  
**

**Category : Kahlua**

**Fandom: Twilight  
**

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** Steph M = Twilight. AzureEyedI = More fun.**

***~*~*~*~*~*~*~***

They say that 90% of sex occurs between the ears.

Perhaps.

Especially if one or more of the senses are compromised in some manner: Sight denied by the simplest of blindfolds. Hearing dulled by earplugs of rubber or paper. Taste deprived by a ball gag. Smell deadened by the use of cotton stuffed in the nostrils.

When one or more of the senses is disallowed the others become acutely heightened, almost absurdly so in some situations.

At least we've always thought so, from our personal experience.

So why not with him?

##

"No. No, Edward, I will _not _fuck Emmett. No way."

"I said you could."

"You were manic, and we were all _blooddrunk._ The answer is still "no," boychik. I will not fuck my brother. It's sick."

"You know, Kitten, technically he's not your brother." I can't resist. I love winding her up just to hear her chirp like an anxious squirrel perched on a branch as it nervously watches the Tabby cat below prowling back and forth, silently waiting for its chance to pounce.

Which, when I come to think of it, is exactly how Kitten and I hunt together, at least when Mom and Dad aren't around.

Or anyone else is, for that matter.

##

"Oh come on, just once. He'll love it, and so will you."

"Pimp your wife out much, Cullen?"

I just stand there and continue to grin at her, forcing my mind to be as blank as a politician's face when confronted with incriminating photos. My arms are folded across my chest, legs crossed at the ankles as I lean against the washing machine, waiting out her rant.

"And how would you know what he'd feel?" She continues, folding the towels and sheets with such force that it reminds me of a cyclone on the Kansas prairie.

She ceases her chore as she glances up at me with a look of total comprehension on that beautiful visage of hers. "Oh, duh. _Alice_ told you so, didn't she?" _Goddammit to hell, I hate how she can do that it sucks the fun out of life sometimes. But it has been handy as far as our financials are concerned, I'll grant her that._ I hear my beloved think.

I have one last card left in my hand to try, and knowing her as I do it's my best bet for granting my brother his most desired wish; the one he ran past our minds that afternoon in Ballard, when my beloved and I were reunited thanks to both Mike Newton's stupidity and his blood that sang to Kitten like a Rammstein powerchord – hard and thick, tasting of pizza and cheap beer.

Leave it to Pabst Blue Ribbon to get her hammered. It works every single time, even more than all the Absinthe and Champagne she's consumed via her "meals" in her long life. Go figure.

"Kitten." I clear my throat to get her attention. She's moved on to folding our jeans and t-shirts as her mind wanders over memories of our flat in Berlin, all those years ago: Of how the morning light attempted in vain to push its way into the front room, past the heavy damask drapes we'd installed to keep it away from our skin. Of the cast of characters that inhabited our building, most of who have long gone to dust either through disease or at the hands of the Nazis.

And of the day we spent at the Paradise Gardens where she'd first had an inkling of what we'd become when the ducks and squirrels refused her frustrated offerings of breadcrumbs and grapes.

"Hmm?" Now she's humming some song about no rest for the wicked or something like that by some band named Cage the Elephant, whatever the hell that means, further blocking me, fucking _minx_ that she is. She knows that her love for popular music irritates me and usually does the trick of keeping me out of her mind.

"I have an idea regarding Emmett's wish, one that..."

She spins around so quickly that her blond mane is a blur. "Edward, have you become a moron? I. Said. _No._ And that's final." She shakes her head at me in disgust and does that _lemon-sucking mouth_ move that only makes me laugh at her every single time she pulls it out of her bag of quirks. She's so damned cute when she does that.

"Baby, please, hear me out."

I let my mind drift over to hers, drilling through the noise she's once again attempting to throw up against mine. It's a bombastic mix of Wagner's "Ride of the Valkyries" and some fan fiction storyline about a rock star with my name and the girl he finds love with even though he calls her 'Piss Girl'. Who the hell makes this stuff up, some pervy Aussie or somebody in Cleveland? The next thing you know, she'll be throwing up images of those Sex Deck cards.

I'm not about to let her mental noise block my attempts to relate my idea to her, one that I'm certain she'll accept once she realizes the tack I want this ship of lust to take.

And it works.

She halts her frantic folding and sweeps a lock of her glorious blond mane from her face as she turns to face me, right eyebrow cocked upwards in anticipation of the rest of my idea.

"Well. _That's _certainly different. Can I wear whatever I want?"

"Uh, _sure_. What were you thinking of?"

Her beaming smile could warm the frigid waters of the Bering Sea.

"Come with me my boychik and I'll show you." She flits out of the laundry room towards the back door of the main house showing me with her thoughts _exactly _what she has in mind to wear, what she knows will drive our brother mad with desire.

I race after her back towards our home, her proposed costume having the same effect on me just like it did in Berlin, all those decades ago.

_Fucking minx._

##

"Where ya going, Rosie girl?"

My Rosalie is wearing tight dark blue jeans and a loose-fitting shamrock green sweater that accentuates both her flawless skin and her cheekbones that are so sharp I swear they could cut glass.

All those snooty coke-fueled models in Paris and Milan got nothin' on my baby.

"Out."

"Where to? Huntin'? In that get up?"

Rosalie gives me that "what the fuck are you thinking Emmett?" look as she shakes her mountain of blond hair in irritation.

"_No_, Emmett, I ate yesterday. I'm going to the Cottage, gonna go hang with Missy and Edward."

"Oh yeah? Well, I'll come with you, see if I can kick Wardo's ass in thumb wrestlin' again."

She sighs in exasperation. "Sorry baby, no can do. You have to stay here or go for a walk or something."

"Why not?" What the fuck is she up to?

"_Because_, Emmett, I have to help Missy out with something."

Tease.

"Yeah, help her out with what? _Make up lessons_? You two could open your own chain of cosmetic stores, what with all the crap you both own. Alice too."

"_Jesus_, Emmett, shut up already. And no, we're not going to play "make up fun", either."

"Well, what are you to up to? Damn girl, either spill or come over here and give your daddy some lovin'."

I watch as she pulls a chocolate brown peacoat over her sweater, hiding her pert, happy girls from me. My right hand pats the empty expanse of the bed next to me, hoping she'll get the hint and join me for another afternoon of "Let's Play Doctor."

Her eyebrows raise up in amusement as she watches the mattress spring back from where my hand landed, and for a split second, I hope that she's tempted to forget whatever our sister has going on out there in the forest, in that "Cottage" that looks more like a McMansion now and come over here to hop on pop, so to speak.

"Costume selections."

"Huh?"

Rosalie smirks at me, nearly the same damn smirk that Wardo does when he's amused or thinks he's smarter than somebody.

Wardo can be one righteous pain-in-the-ass motherfucker at times, but he's my brother and I love him anyway.

"You'll see."

_Tease._

##

"Joanie Stubbs?"

_No, that's only for you and me, no one else._ I shake my head in disapproval.

She sighs. "Okay, I'll be back. Rosalie, Edward said..."

"I figured he said "no." How about this one?"

I hear the rustling of satin and the popping of tight fabric-covered buttons as Rosalie deftly threads them through the buttonholes on Kitten's next choice. The scent of pearls dangling just above her delicious pussy hits my nostrils, causing them to flare in desire. I think its time for Rosalie to go back to the main house, find something to keep Emmett busy, like building a house of cards under the staircase or something.

"How about this one? Salome from that Oscar Wilde movie, remember that one?"

My beloved minx emerges from that enormous closet of ours, plants her right hip out over her right foot and s-l-o-w-l-y shifts her weight back and forth from the right to the left, the six strands of pearls swishing through the air, pushing her scent out towards me. Her countenance is one of complete innocence albeit one with pouty red lips and batting lashes that hide her incredible azure/amber eyes.

Her get up has the desired effect: I'm speechless _and_ turned on. A _lot. _

"Edward? Ya with me?" Her brow is furrowed since she can't delve into my mind because I'm purposefully blocking her.

I shake my head in affirmation, gulping as I start to rise from my favorite black leather club chair, the one that's traveled with us over the years from my boyhood home in Lincoln Park.

"Rosalie. Go home."

Which elicits a peal of delighted laughter from Sofia, and a knowing smirk from our sister.

"Guess we have our winner, huh?" Rosalie laughs as she exits our room while I advance on my wife who continues that Goddamned _back and forth_ motion with those Goddamned _pearls_, smirking back at me and throwing images of just what she wants me to do to and with her there on the floor of our closet.

Fucking Goddamned _minx_.

##

Let's just say that the Salome costume didn't make it to final approval.

And I had _no idea_ that pearls could zing that hard against marble floors, either.

##

"You know the rules, right Emmett?"

"I'm not a fucking idiot, Wardo, I know them: I can fuck her anyway I want, but I can't come in her. Oh, and no pain, no hitting either." No shit Sherlock, I know she's yours, just like Rosie is mine.

"What else?" Jesus, bro please, give me a break.

"Uh, her safe word is, uh..." Oh crap, I forgot.

Wardo stops beside me just outside the door of their playroom. They sent the kids up to Seattle for the day with Alice and Jasper with the excuse that "Mommy wasn't feeling well, and Daddy needed to take care of her."

Might as well tell them "Mommy and Daddy were going to take a little nap." What a load of BS. You think Nessie doesn't see through that? The kid is already doing_ Algebra_, for Christ's sake.

"Well?" Wardo continues to stare at me. I can imagine him mentally rolling his eyes at my hesitation.

"Uh..._Albatross_?"

Wardo sighs in frustration. "No, Emmett, not Albatross."

_Come on McCarty, you know this. It's on the tip of your tongue._

"Uh, _Rumplestiltskin?_"

"Emmett. This isn't a fairy tale. Do you need a hint?" he retorts, smirking at me, fucking smartass brother of mine that he is.

I scratch my head, trying to remember. I can hear her moving something big on the other side of the metal door. Whatever it is, it's covered in some type of fabric; I can smell the scent of lavender-scented fabric softener wafting from its folds.

"Oh, uh, yeah."

"She has a coat with this type of fur on it."

_What the fuck? Now I'm supposed to be that Tim Gunn guy? _

Wardo runs his right hand through that thatch of bronze hair of his, and finally gives in. "'_Monkey'_, Emmett. Her safeword is 'Monkey.'"

Oh. Okay.

He shakes his head one last time and gazes towards the door, silently asking Missy if she's ready. God knows I am, even if I'm scared to death of what's waiting for me behind that thick, stainless steel portal to lust.

"Let's go, Emmett."

Wardo turns the knob and pushes open the door, leading me into the darkened room, lit only by a single spotlight focused on a white cloth-covered platform in the dead center of the room.

A room that is otherwise completely empty save for a simple wooden chair facing the platform.

He stops for the briefest of seconds, letting our eyes adjust to the changing light, and then shuts the door behind us with a heavy _thunk_ sound as the lock engages.

I suck in my breath and Wardo lets the smirkiest smirk I've ever seen drift over his face when he catches my reaction to his wife's outfit.

Missy is wearing a pair of pink silk knickers, black seamed stockings that stop just under the bottom edge of her knickers exposing about an inch of her alabaster flesh, and black patent-leather pumps that add another three inches to her height.

And nothin' else.

##

"Well, well, well. It looks like you brought me a _bear_ to tame Edward. Is this true?"

Missy's hair is down and covers her bare breasts; I can make out the very tips of her dusky pink nipples as they play peek-a-boo with her blond locks. Just the sight of them, pert and erect from the cool air of the room is enough to get my erection going.

"Yes, ma'am. I did." _Oh Jesus, this is a Dom/sub deal. I cannot believe my luck. Rosie never wants to try this shit._

The right side of Missy's mouth curls upward as her eyes drift down towards my crotch. She laughs to herself when she sees the reaction she's caused.

"Emmett. Sit down."

I look around. I have two choices, chair or platform. Which one?

"Uh, where?"

Missy rolls her eyes in exasperation and sighs. "The _chair_, Emmett. Where'd you think? Edward gets the platform."

I scoot over as quickly as I can, plopping myself onto the solid wooden chair. As soon as I'm seated Wardo is behind me, twisting my arms behind the chair and securing my wrists in a pair of cuffs, locking them with a brisk _snap._

_ "_What the fuck, bro?"

"Be quiet, Emmett. Not unless you want her to _punish_ you."

The sound of a riding crop hitting solid flesh fills the otherwise silent room. Missy is standing in front of me, weight on her right hip, slowing slapping the end of the riding crop against the palm of her left hand.

"That's a good bear, Emmett. Now, I am going to prepare you."

"Prepare me? For what?" I squeak. I'm beginning to think that maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all. I can't break the wrist bonds, and if I could sweat, I'd be soaked through my gray tee shirt.

She giggles, shaking her head at me in amusement. "For fun, Herr Bär, for fun. Now, be a good little bear, and open your mouth."

"Huh?" And before I can shut my trap, she shoves a fucking _ball gag _in there, as Wardo straps it behind my head.

_"Wha da fuuk?" _ I sound like I have a freaking softball rammed in there.

Wardo moves around the chair and faces me. He's stripped off his tee shirt and stands in front of me dressed only in his black jeans, his rippled abs reminding me of that _David_ statue in Florence we saw a couple of years ago.

"Emmett. I'm going to stuff your nostrils. Take a deep breath."

"Wha?"

Damn, he's fast. Before I know it, my nose is stuffed with Vasoline-coated cotton swabs. Now not only can I not touch or taste anything, I can't _smell_ anything either. What the fuck are these two up to? Can I change my mind?

Please?

"No, Emmett. You wanted to play rough, and we're going to play rough. This is just the beginning. Edward, put the blindfold on him."

As my brother drapes the thick, quilted blindfold over my unbelieving eyes, I watch as Missy strokes her nipples with the tip of the riding crop, causing me to groan and shift against the rough denim of my jeans.

And then everything goes black.

##

I hear the _click click click_ of her heels as she paces across the hardwood floor in front of me; back and forth, back and forth, the sharp _slap_ of the end of the crop as it hits the marble flesh of her palm. The echo of Edward's footsteps followed by the rustle of the smooth silk sheets as he climbs up onto the platform and settles himself there.

Otherwise, the entire room is silent.

The only senses left to me are my hearing and my imagination.

_Damn_.

##

"Herr Bär, we are going to play a little game now. I will be directing Missy, and she will be following my directions. Do you understand? Nod if you do."

As I do as my brother instructs me, I feel Missy place a small metal ball in my right palm. "This is for you to drop if this gets to be too much for you" she whispers in my right ear, then licks it as quick as lightening, causing me to shift yet again against the delicious ache building in my jeans.

_Oh Sweet Jesus, what did I get myself into? I know they're into some kinky shit, but this is beyond what I expected._

The room is silent again, the only sound the hum of the air conditioner as it continues to blow cool air across my chest. I hear Missy's heels clicking across the floor again as she walks over towards the door and then hear the soft _click_ of the lock opening. There's nothing for a brief second, then I hear the lock as it catches again.

What the hell? Did she leave? Where the hell is Wardo? Am I in here all alone? That would be just like the two of them - get me all wound up and then they take off and play Cribbage for hours on end, leaving me here all bound and anxious.

"Take off his shirt."

I feel the electric change in the air and sense the swift tearing of cotton as my shirt is deftly torn straight down from collar to hem, then tossed away.

_Who did that? It must have been her. _

I can hear Wardo as he repositions himself on the platform. He must be getting off on this big time, he and I both have a bit of the ol' voyeur in us.

"Lick his nipples."

Before I can react, I feel the slick wetness of a tongue as it lathes over my left nipple as soft fingers roll and pinch my right nipple. The sound of my moan deadened by the ball gag; all I can feel is wet, frigid, peppermint-tinged breath as it arouses both my nipples _and_ my erection.

_Oh God, this is too much. Can I have more? Please?_

As soon as that thought leaves my mind, the lathing abruptly ceases. Oh shit, I forgot about that mind-reading thing they both have.

"Jeans."

I bet old Wardo must love this, watching me as I squirm and moan. He's not a masochist, he's a fuckin' _sadist_.

The metal buttons on the fly of my jeans are flicked open oh-so-slowly, _one-two-three _by her fingers, lightly stroking against my taut flesh as she does. Oh God, I can't take much more of this. All my concentration is centered on whatever it is she's doing, and nothing else. This doesn't feel weird now it's, what's that word? Exquisite. Yeah, that's it. _Exquisite_.

If I could breathe, I'd be panting like a dog on the hottest August day, fast and furious.

My jeans are whipped off my legs, leaving me naked and aroused on that hard wooden chair, in the middle of an otherwise silent and cool room.

_Oh God. Fuck me._

##

She giggles. "That's the idea, little brother. But not yet."

Her voice is in front of me, but sounds like it's coming from somewhere around my bent and quivering knees.

Oh no. She's not kneeling, is she? Oh my God, _pleasepleaseplease...._

_ "_Mouth."

I flinch backwards in the chair as I feel the moist wetness of her mouth as it envelopes my cock, stroking my taut flesh with her tongue up and down my length. This isn't going to end well I just know it. I can barely stand it as it is, and I don't want to pop too soon, otherwise I know she'll be pissed and I'll be stuck there bound and embarrassed. Plus I know she'd tell Rosalie, and I'd never live that down, she'd tease me for years about my lack of self-control.

_Tongue. Mouth. Fingers. Fist_. Working in unison to bring me closer and closer to my release._ Teasing._ Ceasing when she feels the tension build, then letting it recede before starting up again. I'm thrusting my hips towards her mouth, so close, so close..._Fucking Wardo, lucky bastard, no wonder he'd leave the house with the dreamiest look on his face, after getting a blow job like this nearly every morning before we left for school._

I can't hold back, I just want to keep pumping my cock into her mouth and let it go, let my jizz coat the back of her throat. I'm _thisclose..._

_ "_Stop."

What the fuck? No no no. _Oh God, please Wardo_ I silently plead from behind my mask of cotton and rubber and silk.

I hear the two of them softly chuckle at my distress, my unleashed need for release. Fucking bastards.

And I swear I heard his breath accelerate in unison with mine as she brought me to the precipice, only to halt when she did.

##

"You okay, klein Bär?" She asks me, murmuring softly into my ear. What am I supposed to think? 'Oh yeah, sure I'm just _dandy_, just dying to come but you know, otherwise everything is peachy-keen.'

I can hear them speaking German to each other, God only knows what they're both planning next for me. But I just nod my head 'yes' and gulp anxious and nervous about the mess I've managed to get myself into and hoping that Rosalie won't be too pissed off about this.

I had a hard enough time getting her permission to do this in the first place.

##

"Straddle."

Oh God. Is this what I think?

As I feel the silk of her stockings as they brush against my thighs I know I'm right.

She's going to fuck me, and fuck me hard, straddling my cock.

_Oh, God._

"Mount."

Yeah, like I'm a fucking _horse_ or something. I bet he's jacking off over there on that platform of theirs, watching as Missy hovers herself over the head of my cock, just barely allowing the tip of my cock to touch the entrance to her slick, warm pussy.

I've dreamed about this for years, whacked off to images of the two of us together countless times, but now that it's here, that its real, I feel like I'm sixteen again and about to lose my virginity with that girl who's name I'd forgotten ages ago, out in the back pasture of her father's farm, back there in Tennessee.

As she finally slides down on my cock, I realize she's riding me reverse cowgirl and nearly pass out from the sensation of heat and wet and ridges and _OhmyGod_ she's riding me like she's got seven seconds before the buzzer goes off and she's going for that buckle that proclaims her as Champion Bull Rider.

"Heh, Emmett. Not a Bull Rider, more like a _Bear Rider"_ she throatily laughs as she continues her _up and down and round and round _grinding, and Oh sweet Jesus, this is more than I can take, shes relentless. I'm so close, I can hear Wardo over there on that platform taking this in, wondering if he's as turned on as I am _and I can't hold back, I can't hold back, I'm going to..._

"Stop."

WHAT?!

##

"Reverse."

Oh, _thank you_ Wardo, for letting your wife turn herself around and face me. She starts up where she left off and her pace quickens. As she does I swear to God I can hear Wardo's breathing accelerate, his soft moans as he watches his wife put me through the single most erotic experience of both my natural and unnatural life. All I can sense is the slap of her flesh against mine and hear her panting breath, feel the sharp peppermint-scented coldness as it wafts over my face.

"Come my bear, come for me. Show me how I've tamed you."

Yes ma'am.

It hits me like a freight train, the force of my orgasm. I've never felt anything so intense, so incredible, it's as if having all but one of my senses denied has forced me to concentrate on the here and now, and I groan and try to cry out as my release is finally granted.

She ceases her grinding after I come, and I feel the tightness of her own orgasm as her walls clench and release in waves. Her moans and cries echo across the mahogany paneled walls, and damn if she doesn't sound like Rosalie when she comes.

At the exact same moment as Missy comes, I hear Wardo groan and realize he's been timing his orgasm with hers.

_Damn._

##

For what seems like ages, there's nothing but silence afterwards.

She stands up and I feel the emptiness that always follows the end of sex envelope me.

"You okay, Em?" She asks, but her voice sounds farther away from my ear, almost like she's flittered across the room, back towards the platform.

Huh?

Unseen hands remove the straps of the ball gag, allowing me to swallow and cough away the venom and saliva that's been building in my mouth, followed by a soft kiss on my lips.

_Hey. I know that taste. What the..._

The nose plugs are next. I wrinkle up my nose to lose the sensation of the cotton swabs and what the hell? I know that scent. _No, no way..._

Next off come the wrist bands. I feel the familiar touch of soft hands and fingers as they rub away the sensation of thick, strong leather on my wrists.

_Oh, no. No fucking way._

As I reach up blindly, I barely graze the downy curve of a breast as it moves away from my touch.

Oh my God. They didn't.

I frantically pull the blindfold down, squinting against the sudden brightness of the single light illuminating the pure white platform across from me, where I finally see my brother and his wife as they both smugly sit there, her legs swinging back and forth, knees bent over the edge as he hugs her from behind, enveloping her in his grasp.

Both of them grinning like pair of Goddamned Cheshire Cats.

"Surprised, baby?"

My head swivels from them back to the grinning source of my torture, my pleasure and finally, my release.

Rosalie.

Well, _damn._

_##_

**A/N: Thanks to my equally pervy betas, CarminMoon and Reagan O'Connor.**

**This was my first attempt at writing an Emmett-focused lemon, and all I have to say is:**

_**Damn!**_


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